By Lien Estrada
HAVANA TIMES – When the call went out in 1995 to submit literary works for the City Prize in Holguin, poet Juan Isidro Siam Arias presented his book “Objective Lies”. However, the jury found it so daringly subversive as to outweigh the excellence of the work itself. Based on that opinion, they decided not to award him the prize. Considering the socio-political context of the times – the Castro dictatorship – the decision was a prudent one for preserving the work. An oversight or distraction in this field can cost you even more.
Thank God the poet did not lose heart – his book deserved it. He went on to enter it in the Alcala de Henares poetry festival contest. The power of the Castros didn’t scare the judges of those Spanish lands, and he won the prize. It was published in 1995, and, happily, some copies arrived in the province of Holguin. The House of Culture there began preparing to hold a presentation ceremony, a good friend who managed to get a copy tells me. However, they weren’t able to go forward with the planned presentation. State Security arrived and forbade it, and the boxes of Siam’s books remained unopened at that time.
But once again, Providence be praised, the boxes were opened later, and the poet was able to give some copies to his friends, family, and a few other lucky people.
I was in Banes [Cuban municipality in Holguin province] a little over a month ago, and went to visit a poet friend, Youer Mariño. We began talking, and he shared an experience I found lovely about the adventures of that book of Juan Isidro Arias’ poetry. I want to share it now with you.
When the text of “Objective Lies” came into the hands of my poet friend, he was so fascinated by it that he wanted a copy. When he realized that he couldn’t get it anywhere, due to the events mentioned, he decided to buy a notebook and copy the book page by page, like those ancient Babylonian scribes who made perfect copies of any manuscript that passed through their lands.
When he met the author, who is also from Banes, he showed him his handwritten copy and asked him to write a dedication. Juan Siam was stunned by the experience, and not only wrote a very tender dedication for the copy he had in his hands, but also got my friend one of the printed copies that arrived from Spain. My friend showed me both copies: his handwritten work with the calligraphy on each verse and the one given by Siam. I was astounded. But how could you do this? I asked him, in awe. “When you feel passionate about something, it’s possible,” he replied.
I am left with that lesson, as well as a renewed awareness that art and artists are also unstoppable in society. Many times, the hand of power, with all its arrogance and clumsiness, cannot overcome the power of talent and sensitivity. And that’s how so many works have endured in our culture, against all the power of winds and tides. That’s how the works of Guillermo Cabrera Infante or Zoe Valdez became known; and the music of Celia Cruz and Willie Chirino, and so many other artists working outside Cuban borders.
It has even happened that, in the end, under the same controls of a totalitarian system that hasn’t changed its spirit, they’ve had to recognize the work of great music maestros like Ernesto Lecuna; and writers such as Gaston Baquero, eventually published on the island. There has even been a literary prize established in the city of Holguin in memory of Reynaldo Arenas, another once-censored artist, and named “Celestino”, the title of the only book this author ever had published in Cuba.
We can’t doubt the dynamism of life itself, nor the fact that this inherent freedom will end by imposing itself over the most long-lasting dictatorships. It’s been proven over the passage of time.
Read more from the diary of Lien Estrada here.
